Photograph
by Jinx135
Summary: One-shot. Matt does something unforgivable and Sora has to deal with the pain.


_**A/N: **Rated K+ for darkish themes. I do not own Digimon._

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"Tell me you didn't."

Silence.

"Tell me you didn't!"

More silence.

"TELL ME!" Sora yanked Matt's collar, forcing him close to her face. Even in this close proximity his eyes never swayed from hers. He didn't blink; his blue orbs just stared at her.

"What does this relationship even mean to you," Sora brokenly whispered, slow tears moving down her face. She didn't want to cry-- she was not a weak schoolgirl anymore. She knew crying would get her no sympathy, no magic spell that would undo the wrong acts.

But she cried anyway.

She wished he would look away. That would make it better-- make her feel more comfortable. She could easily yell and curse and scream at someone who looked down at the ground, someone who looked as though they were even the slightest bit ashamed. But Matt's eyes looked onto hers with pity, like she had just come to realize that this relationship meant next to nothing to him.

And she guessed he was right.

She repeated her question to herself in her head. What _did_ their relationship mean to him? To her, he was her life. She skipped tennis games so she could travel on world tours with Matt, sold her valuables so he could buy new guitars, washed his clothes, fed him, cared for him, _loved _him--

And to him she was a mere trinket easily tossed aside to make way for bigger dreams and brighter wishes.

She dropped his collar and looked at the ground. "Get out." The words fell out of her mouth, heavy as lead, and shattered on the wooden floor.

Silence. No hint of movement. Sora clenched her fists. She spun around, grabbed a lamp, and hurled it against the nearest wall.

"GET OUT!"

She collapsed to the floor, broken and barely hanging on to sanity. A whisper of footsteps, and then nothing. She was all alone.

Not that she ever felt like Matt's presence these days was any better.

She sat up and wiped her eyes, feeling like a child. Who throws things at people? Children who have tantrums, that's who. She was much more mature than that. She _should be_ much more mature than that.

She looked at the table, filled with pictures of her smiling face coupled with Matt's not-so-smiling one. All the signs were there, hinting at where this road was leading. She just didn't know how to read the map and change their direction before they reached this dead-end.

The silence was making her ears bleed. She felt like she was back in the DigiWorld, cold, alone, and scared. Turned back into a conflicted child with mommy problems and helmet hair. No knight-in-shining-armor Matt was coming to her rescue, no Biyomon. It was just her.

Alone.

Suffocated in a cavern of memories.

It was too much. Everything was too much. Too many words unsaid, too many nights alone, too many fake pictures with fake smiles depicting their fake lifestyle. She grabbed the pictures and chunked them at walls, vases, other pictures, and furniture. She smashed them on the floor, ripped apart the photos, scattered the fragments around the room. When she was done, she looked around at the destruction she caused. Her mood had not changed. She felt no productivity in her juvenile act like she'd hoped for. She was still empty.

She moved towards her bedroom, taking no care to maneuver around the shards of glass spread over the floor like a rain drops after a storm. There was worse pain in life than mere cuts.

Like a ghost, she moved to the side of her bed. She sat there and became lost in her thoughts. Slowly, she moved her head to the direction of her bedside table and remotely stared at the last picture left of her relationship with the blonde rock star.

She took it in her hands, feeling the wood, rubbing her hand over the glass, tracing the outline of her and Matt. She felt herself smile, just a tiny bit, in response to the picture. She wiped tears from her eyes with fluttering fingers and remembered the times when they were both happy.

She looked up at the ceiling, smiling towards the heavens, and crushed the picture to her heart. The bed creaked as she shifted onto her side and into fetal position. Moist lips hovered over the picture where Matt's face was.

Maybe she would throw the photo away tomorrow, first thing in the morning, when she encountered the wreckage her living room had become.

Maybe she would burn it in the sink and watch the last of their happy memories go up in a cough of smoke.

Maybe she would keep it forever.

Sora's eyelids flickered closed. Tonight she would sleep; tomorrow she would decide the future of the photograph.

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_**A/N:** Another Sora/Matt one-shot. I've mentioned in my other Sora/Matt one-shot that I didn't like the Sora/Matt pairing, and I realized I was lying. I like the Sora/Matt pairing, but I like seeing Sora in pain in their relationship. Does that make sense? I guess I'm just a sadist at heart. I think the two characters mesh really well together when Matt bullies Sora, and Sora gets conflicted about what move she wants to make next. What I'm really not a fan of is the mushy-gooey love stuff some people make them out to be. I'm more into the painful stuff._

_A friend of mine asked me why I didn't show more background to this story. She asked, "What were they fighting about? What did the picture contain?" I can't answer these questions because I don't know myself. I just got the basic plot down and expect you, the reader, to go wild with your imagination. I could probably make up some story about how Matt cheated on Sora with Sora's best friend and yada yada yada, but really, where's the fun in that? This way I don't let you down by my interpretation of what happened, because what I might think is bad enough to make Sora go postal might be different then what you think. See where I'm going with this?_

_So, here's an end-of-one-shot question for ya: What do you think made Sora so upset? What do you think the picture showed to make her change her mind about the state of her relationship with Matt? I'm just curious to know what you think. ^^_


End file.
